


Bad Decisions in a Good Way

by TernTuesday



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cheating, F/F, Pre-Talon Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TernTuesday/pseuds/TernTuesday
Summary: Angela knows what they are doing is wrong, but when you can't stop it, worrying is just wasted effort.
Relationships: Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Bad Decisions in a Good Way

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get back into writing (hooray for new years resolutions!) so this is part of practice. Please don't judge me.
> 
> Also, I was trying hard to avoid making this one of these "wlw written by a guy" kinds of stories (even though it was) so please accept my apologizes to whoever stumbles here.

Angela knocks on the door to Amelie's dressing room, bouquet of flowers precariously balanced in her free arm. She was meticulous in its selection, picking a wide variety of flowers with no regard of their meaning in the language of flowers, something that, as a scientist, always more or less eluded here. In the end, most of them just say "pollinate me" to the various insects that cater to their colors and shapes.

How fitting.

Most of all, though, they‘re not the kind of flowers one gives to a lover.

She hears the muffled voices through the door, laughter. Amelie's voice, still a safe distance away like a radium source behind the thick radiation casing. She knows she won't escape it forever. Steps come closer, not Amelie's dainty, almost cat-like movement, but heavy and imposing.

The door opens to Gerard, the careless fool. With all the efforts Talon puts into hunting him down, he should be more careful about security. Then again, Mercy would not be here otherwise. 

"Oh, Angela! You came to congratulate ma petite lapin as well? With an entire meadow?" He opens the door wider and invites her in with a large, sweeping gesture. 

Angela barely remembers to smile to him, eyes already drawn to Amelie, still in her swan costume, caught halfway in removing her makeup. 

Their eyes catch. Just for a second, Amelie's look of mirth is replaced by heat, a deep, dark draw.

Angela does not bother with the futile attempt of a denying herself to look, letting her eyes roam over Amelie in her tutu. She drinks in every glimpse of her, the flush of her skin, the light sheen of sweat on her body after that marvelous performance, soft curves hiding the corded muscles beneath. Angela knows them intimately, and the desire the few steps distance awaken is almost unbearable. 

It takes all her effort to rein herself in, turn back to Gerard to offer him a wide smile. "Since this is her last performance of the season, I figured a big congratulation is in order." She turns to Amelie. "What do you say? Have I done your talent justice?"

Amelie musters her offering briefly, flickering her gaze between the bouquet and Angela. She's always been a good actress, so her smile is friendly, revealing nothing except genuine warmth. "Nothing earthly could do my talent justice", she says dramatically, smile growing wider. "However, your offering is acceptable."

She quickly wipes off the rest of her makeup, then stands up with the regal bearing of a queen. She offers Angela her hand. "You've done good, peasant!"

For a moment, Angela almost forgets herself. Amelie loves taunting her, and Angela loves rising to her challenge. She'll have Amelie crying out in pleasure, screaming almost, watching her come undone under her hands and tongue, then turn on her, panting, clamoring for breath, and still asking "Is that all you can do, Doctor Ziegler?"

But Gerard is still in the room, laughing loudly at his wife's performance. So Angela waits. 

Gerard slaps her shoulder. "Thank you for taking her majesty off my hand, by the way", he says. "I was only delay my trip this long to see her final performance, but I have to leave in a few minutes. In fact, my driver is already sending me angry messages." He sighs. 

"Don't worry about me", Amelie says cheerfully. "Angela promised to keep me company over the week." Her smile turns predatory, for just a second. "Since she's been back in town, it's gotten much less lonely when you leave."

"I really appreciate it, Angela", he says, and Mercy smiles as if it really was just a friendly service. With a look at his clock, he turns to go. "I'm sorry, ma petite, but I really have to go now."

Angela turns away as he leans over to his wife. She doesn't want to see. To a casual observe, she's just giving them some privacy. But a part of her still feels that ugly stab, as if it was Gerard, not her, who is defiling a marriage.

She waves him goodbye with a smile, promises to take care of Angela, laughs of his jokes. 

Then the door closes behind him.

Amelie takes a step towards her, but Angela's raised hand raises her into space. 

Heavy steps outside, getting quieter. A few more seconds, just holding eye contact. 

When the last step disappears down the hall, Angela lowers her hand. Without even looking, she reaches for the door behind her and locks it.

Amelie is faster, has always been faster. All her strength and speed, so marvelous to see on the dance floor, so alluring and sweetly intimidating when they are alone, now pushing her forward, pushing against Angela until she has her back to the wall. Amelie's is holding her by her shoulders. One more second of waiting, giving Angela one last moment of anticipation before the storm that is Amelie crashes in on her. 

Their lips meld together, no time for teasing touches. Amelie has even Angela feverish, wild, unable to keep her pace. They can't stay without contact, without their lips and tongues moving together, that unique taste and feeling nothing in the world can replicate. So Angela allows herself to get lost, stop thinking, and forget all her reservations, as Amelie makes her do.

"God, I missed you", Amelie breathes against her lips in between kisses. "All the time I was on stage, all I could think about is letting you pull this off me." She pulls in, pressing their bodies as close together as they can without becoming one, and the burst of heat in Angela's body is stronger than anything she ever experienced. 

She's caught and lost forever. Dr. Angela Ziegler, prodigy, logical mind, torn apart by lust, and greed, and Amelie.

"I was in the loge, alone. I thought about having you there, in this costume, between my legs." Her smaller height has advantages, as Angela kisses Amelie's throat, gently, drawing a sigh from the ballerina. "I had to fuck myself as I was watching you." She kisses Amelie's throat again, just as gently. They can never leave any marks.

She feels Amelie's laugh vibrating against her lips. 

"Good girl. Maybe one day, I will accompany you to a performance, and perhaps I'll be in costume." Amelie's fingers deftly slip under her rather conservative blouse, drawing it upwards. She turns her head up like a queen, inviting more kisses, navigating Angela's body entirely by feel. 

Soon, she reaches the bra clasps and unhooks them in one swift motion.

Amelie leans down, gently kissing the top of each breast. "Let's get this off you quickly."

Precious seconds go by between kisses, between contact, as Angela removes the offending barriers, and soon she is bared before Amelie. She knows well that the ballerina takes her time, dancing across her like she does on stage. She pushes herself against Angela, the friction of the costume enough to ignite flashes of pleasure, the feel of her curves hidden away behind this thin layer teasing Angela with the promises of what they conceal. No matter how often Angela sees, touches, tastes her, Amelie holds her adoration like the first time.

But Amelie is an artist, and so she pulls back from the almost animalistic friction. She coos at Angela's heavy breathing, she gently cups both her breasts. Her hands are soft and gentle, oh so gentle, and the caress is almost enough to give Angela her first little death right there. Amelie kisses all along her torso, in patterns, drawing a line down Angela's sternum, then kisses the cusps of her breasts, teasing them with tongue and teeth, and all the while, her hands sneak lower and lower.

When her hands start teasing the hem of Angela's pants, she's already gone. Body shaking on the verge of orgasm, just from the foreplay alone, nerves run ragged and only the thought of Amelie keeping her standing. As skilled hands unbutton her pants and slip inside her underwear, she wraps her arms around Amelie, holding on for dear life. A kiss holds her breath as Amelie starts moving her fingers, first one just dipping inside her, teasing, as the other two rub up and down her labia in a lazy pattern. 

A kiss steals her breath, her attempted scream turning into a muffled moan against Amelie's lips and tongue. As they break, she repeats her name, "Amelie! Amelie!" in whispers, only serving to drive Amelie to move faster. The kisses and licks move down to her neck, her chest, her breasts, all the while a second finger enters her, curling into her core.

She falls over the edge and dies there, in Amelie's arms. She barely manages to contain the scream as she comes undone, even as the ministrations continue. Amelie lets her down gently to the floor, falling on top of her, just a little breathless, kissing her lips in cheeks gently. 

"I've missed this so much", Amelie says. She wrests herself of Angela, grasping her hand as she does. "After just a week, I've had to force myself to concentrate. Imagine! I missed easy steps in my routine during training, with my talent!"

It takes longer for Angela to regain her composure enough to speak.

"I've... missed you a lot too. I haven't been sleeping well, alone." It's this calm, this comfort she misses. Letting her fingers intertwine with Amelie's. Leaning her head on the taller woman's shoulder. 

Angela has never been too enthusiastic about physical affection, much less sex, but with Amelie, it just ... feels right. 

She used to feel guilty. She still does, when she's alone. The first time with Amelie, she was in denial. The second time, she rationalized away. The third time, Gerard wondered why she started avoiding him at base. 

"It's because I am a horrible monster," she wanted to say.

But no matter how many times she lay awake, no matter how many hours she spent telling herself over and over again what a horrible act she was committing, what a terrible thing she was doing to Gerard (She never blamed Amelie. Never, ever.). She wrote down all the reasons why seeing Amelie again was a terrible idea.

Her willpower always held right until Amelie visited Gerard at base, or mailed her, or called her late at night when she was stressed.

She looks over at Amelie, who lays there smiling, eyes closed, quietly humming to herself. They never talk about it anymore. They have exhausted this topic, and they both know they won't be able to stop. 

"It's because I love Gerard, but I can never love him the way I love you," is what Amelie told her.

"Maybe one day we will need to make this public," Angela says.

Amelie's humming stops. "One day", she agrees.


End file.
